all angels will fall
by nochs
Summary: when edward cullen's autobiography is shared with his english class after his tragic death, the room is still with shocked silance of those who knew and loved him. this is the tale of a love that was never meant to be, and the life's it took with it.
1. comfort and misery

disclaimer: i dont own twilight thankfully, it would be much too dramatic if i did

warnings: some emo-ness, character death, and foul language

this is a repost of a worse version i wrote a while ago, i hope you enjoy it

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Tears dripped down the once happy face of a motherly teacher, her face finally betraying her true age in a series of lines and wrinkles. Her once vibrant voice quivered in sorrow and she addressed the class, tucking a piece of lank brown hair carelessly behind an ear barely noticing when it slipped out of place, heaving a mournful sigh and chocking back a sob. The rest of the room were similarly affected, some staring listlessly at a pair of empty seats near the back of the room, some openly wailing their grief and suffering to the heavens and leaning on the shoulders of their peers.

But all fell silent as the pitiful shadow of their once strong teacher began to speak in a quiet broken voice. Some sniffled and cried but all turned respectfully toward the front of the room. She spoke in words beaten and withered by time in sorrow she began to tell the gathered children of a tragic tale of two lovers, though none present were yet aware of this. Tears began to flow as she spoke of the deaths of two loved students, one of the cruelest disease, the other at his hand the very same day.

Students began to cry anew, couples holding each other for support, friends sharing watery glances, and all immersed in memories of their two dearly departed class mates. The broken woman at the front of the room paused with a sniffle at the head of the dispirited room and fished through her woven bag, finally producing a warm colored journal with the monogram E.A.C. written in flowing gold script across the cover. The journal, completely at odds with the emotions in the room and the black-clad students, brought about a louder round of wails and cries of despair from the gathered children.

the teacher, in between sniffles, pronounced to the room that the journal had belonged to the child who had taken his life two days before, it had been presented to the teacher the same day as his death for credit in her class, she paused here to smile at the memory then continued, she had hoped to read it in hopes of reminiscing his memory and providing the class with the knowledge of his life. She paused again to face a class of sad smiles and teary eyes. A student began to push tables out of the way and move chairs to the center of the room, placing them into a wide clump around a plush arm chair, another student led the shaky teacher to her seat in the armchair with a gentle hand and whispered thanks.

The students gathered about the teacher to hear the tale of Edward Cullen, and unknowingly uncover the story of a love that was never meant to be, and the life's it claimed in the process. This is the story of a battered angel and her prince.

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any good? verry bad? tell me your thoughts in a review please

i lovingly dedicate this to my faithful reviewers from the previous version, so sorry for never updating!

nikkisage - i love your story keep up the great work

veravallejo - im glade you like the idea, hope to hear from you soon

bellaravencullen - im updaing yay! i hopr this meets your standards

Karina1743 - you are far too kind! i love you! haha i hope you like this beter than the last one if that was so good

xXxfallingxXxdownxXx - im so happy you enjoyed it, this si for you as my first review


	2. in the begining their was light

Edward Cullen

Friday Feb 13th 2005

_I don't know why I'm writing this, perhaps because it's an assignment, perhaps because I have something to say. Either way I'm sitting here writing when I could be doing anything I wanted to. This is my auto biography, the story of my life._

_My life changed today, for better or worse I'm not yet certain, but it changed. It started normal, just like in the movies; the popular boy goes to school…_

Morning sun pooled through the window of the second story bedroom casting a soft glow upon the copper hair of the room's resident. The room had once belonged to his brother but had recently been remodeled in hopes of solitude; new softer paint had been brushed upon the walls, new curtains replacing the boards that had once covered the broken glass windows, wispy white instead of the harsh wood. The room itself has seen many owners, many gusts, and with the previous owner, much abuse. But now the room has been rejuvenated. Where there was once a dark Smokey room is now an open and bright utopia. Light furniture and soft colors, yellows, creams, oranges and reads, smaller precise technology, and even, wonder of wonders, a piano. The room has not heard music since the current owner's great grandmother resided there. This boy, the room's new owner, inherits much from this fine woman. Her green eyes, sparkling with wonder and knowledge, her messy bronze hair, fine and gleaming as sunshine even in the most dank of rooms, the boy shares these all. The girl, and thus the boy, appeared as gods of spring. There warm caring hearts could melt the coldest ice. And so the room is filled with the soul of sun. Even on the cloudiest of days a ray of sun will burst through the clouds to wake the sun prince. Never has this routine changed, nor will it. For a sun prince must always be woken with the warmth of the sunbeams.

The blankets on the bed softly rustled as the boy moved, as if asking gently for him to wake and greet the day once again. More rustling as the prince tried to evade the alluring measures of the blankets and sunlight and return to the blissful events of his slumber. A lock of bronze hair fluttered with the soft breath coming from the slowly waking boy. Breath once slow in sleep, increased pace by a small amount to that of waking speed. Thick lashes and soft eyelids parted to reveal brilliantly green eyes sparkling with mirth. Even in waking the boy was untainted by viciousness. Beautiful is the prince of sun.

_I guess it's just the way things work, you know what I mean, school drags by, day after day, and just when you think it's gotten dull enough to kill you, BAM! You get hit with life it's self! Well, that's what happened to me today, I got smacked straight in the face with reality. I think I'm in love…_

Rain sprinkled the windows of his car this morning, not so different from other mornings he had driven to forks high. Music floated from the speakers of the radio as he distractedly stared out the rain streaked glass, lulling him into his normal since of tranquility that he had this time in the grey washed dawn. Mornings in forks were far from exiting, apart from the ceaseless chatter in the parking lot, any energy seemed forgotten. The boy pulled gracefully into the spot beside a deep blue Toyota four-door with the customary forks rusted bumper and band stickers. How long had it been since a band had come to forks? Five, maybe six years? A long time, that's for certain. An insistent pounding sound snapped the dreamer from his daze.

"Hey, Edward, dude, did you fucking die in there? Come on, get your lazy ass out!" the raucous bellowing of Emmett, the schools official smart ass, and the boys best friend filtered through the glass windows of Edward's car. It seems as if the boys had known each other since the start of time it's self, not a memory in either mind disclosed the other, not a thought or trouble has gone unshared. Perhaps fate saw fit to reach her hand into the world of men and bond these two as brothers of the soul, for we all know the saying, opposites attract.

Edward exited the car with all the grace and powers of a wild cat to great his bulky friend. Emmett was not fat in the least of ways; he was in fact, solid muscle. The man looked as if he was a high school version of an amateur body builder, all the muscle without any of the freakish aura. His dark chocolate mane of curly hair fell slightly into his eyes adding an old fashioned romantic light to the stronger teen. Because of his looks, his odd sense of humor that could brighten anyone's day, and his athletic hobbies, it seemed to some that the schools heart-throb was without the brains to pull through life. They were wrong. Emmett was incredibly gifted in science and mathematics and almost always placed high in scholarships tests.

"No and yes, let's get inside its freezing" Where as Emmett was with brawn, Edward had the hard-earned strength of an avid runner. He was lanky and lean with long muscles and lightly tanned skin. In place of curly locks he had a sensual tangle of messy copper brushing his neck and drifting in his emerald eyes. He was not handsome but beautiful. His features were delicate and angled, speaking of an angels face in place of that of a warrior. Music and art were his life. From piano to painting, ceramics and more the boy was gifted in studies of the right mind. A natural Mozart.

The boys entered the school in their customary silence each parting with a backward glance and quick smirk to their first classes. Soon to be swallowed by the churning mass of students packing the halls.

Class began in a flurry of paper shuffling and the screeching of chairs against checkered tile. The teacher, a forty or so old woman with brown wispy hair and neat brown thin rimmed glasses, took to the front of the class and parted her thin bow shaped lips into voice. Her voice offered comfort to the students and careened gently without snobbish pungency unlike most teachers. Her eyebrows raised in question, small gently arching brown lines against golden sun lined skin. Though the teacher showed signs of her age, they added to her perfectly. Her wrinkles faint and sweet her eyes holding not only wisdom but memories of simple times and promise of those soon to come. A hand raised and politely answered her seeking question. All students respected this motherly teacher more so than any other of her profession, 

only the gods know why. It seemed as if the motherly teacher was speaking about a new student, Isabella of name, soon to join the class. The door opened with a creek causing a domino effect as student whirled around to meet the eyes of the visitor.

_And that's when I saw her, I could have sworn my heart broke free of my chest and fell upon the desk before me; she was so beautiful, just so beautiful…_

A dainty heart shaped face slipped shyly from behind the door, pale skin and wide eyes shining under the florescent lights. Her dark doe like eyes questioning and afraid, I longed to hold her and make her fears go away. The world silenced to me as she spoke, her voice came in a faint whisper from between her full bow lips, wavering with nerves and singing songs of promise to my soul. So this was Bella, her name fits.


End file.
